I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

My father’s death was proof that unhappiness quickly kills a man
My Twitter suspension is reminder that free speech is under assault
Love drives us mad, but madness rescues us from ‘horrible sanity’
The Alien Observer:
My teen hijinks were silly fun, not alcohol-fueled drunken groping
Atlanta police arrest wrong Teresa, but keep her locked up for 53 days
Feeling abandoned by a parent often sets pattern for entire life
Could we solve tough problems if we didn’t know they’re difficult?
Healthy romance features mutual growth, not just ‘take me as I am’